Merry Christmas, John Watson
by mysteriousMice
Summary: John is sent into a panic as Sherlock has used all of the wrapping paper. All three rolls of it. However, things lighten up as our favorite doctor is treated to one of the best Christmas gifts ever. Rated T for mild language.


"Sherlock? Where have you put the wrapping paper?" John wanders down the stairs to find Sherlock applying resin to his bow. The detective looks up with a blank expression on his face.

"I've used it."

"Yes, I know you've used it, you've put an enormous parcel under the tree... but, just where did you put the rest?"

"I've used it." Sherlock rolls his eyes subtly as he places the violin on his arm. His fingers coil around the strings, but he makes no move to play it just yet. Its as if he's savoring the feeling of it in his hand. But John doesn't really notice this, as he has been blown aback by the response to his question.

"You've used all of it."

"Problem?"

"Why YES I've got a problem! I still haven't wrapped your gift OR Mrs. Hudson's. Besides, there were three rolls of the stuff!" John's voice is raised now, and Sherlock sighs as he rests his violin again.

"I needed all of it."

"Sherlock."

"Don't even bother with wrapping them anyways! I already know what you've gotten me, and I'm sure Mrs. Hudson won't mind if her present is unwrapped."

"But-"

"Or use the comics section, oh she'd probably love that, you know how she-"

"Sherlock! Shut your clanging cake hole and listen to me!" John shouts out as if it is his a battle cry, causing the detective to 'shut his clanging cake hole' very quickly.

"Good. Now that I have your attention, I would like to ask you to go out and purchase some more!"

The two of them argue on this for at least an hour before John finally storms out of the flat, claiming he needs to go get some air.

Of course, he comes back with more wrapping paper. Sherlock silently smirks at this spectacle, opting not to go help him and instead remain reclined on the sofa in his pyjamas.

John walks down the stairs holding a couple of small parcels, nicely wrapped in the new paper. He sends a look at Sherlock, who pulls himself up from his seat.

"Well, I suppose I'll go fetch Mrs. Hudson, then." John rolls his eyes as Sherlock bounces down to find their landlady. Sherlock reminds him of a child, the way he seems so thrilled about this holiday.

John hears Mrs. Hudson's voice ringing out from downstairs. She's blabbering on about how 'oh, you don't have to do this, Sherlock. This is so sweet of you.' John finds himself smiling, even if he doesn't want to. Sherlock bounces up the stairs again, followed shortly by Mrs. Hudson. The detective sits down next to the tree, placing a new parcel down on the floor. Mrs. Hudson hands John another.

"This one's for you, dearie. Sherlock's got his already."

"Thank you. There's a present or two for you under the tree."

The three of them start opening their gifts. From Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock has received a new knit scarf, and John has gotten a knit jumper. Its adorned with cats and Christmas ornaments, and although a little off-putting, it is somewhat charming. John puts it on immediately.

Mrs. Hudson quite enjoys the apron she receives from Sherlock, and gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek before opening John's present to her, which is a fine necklace. She is overjoyed at this gift.

"Oh, Mrs. Turner will be so jealous!" she exclaims as she hugs John.

Soon afterward, she retires to her living quarters, leaving John and Sherlock alone with their presents to each other. The enormous parcel under the tree is addressed to John, which is a little shocking to him. Sherlock has began unwrapping the parcel addressed to him from John, which contains a lovely new watch (Sherlock had broken his old watch during one of his 'experiments,' and had been complaining about not having one for almost a week now), a box of tea (Sherlock's favorite variety, of course), and one gift that Sherlock didn't seem to expect. His eyes widen slightly as he lifts it out of the tissue paper. It is a human heart in a jar.

"Of course it's not mine, but I know you like body parts, so I figured, well," John shrugs, "I figured you would enjoy something like that."

"Thank you," Sherlock mumbles as he turns over the jar in his hands. "This is..." he pauses, "very thoughtful of you."

John smiles, glad that his flatmate enjoys the gift. "You're welcome."

John looks upon his gigantic gift again. He unwraps it slowly, opening the box to find...

"Oh God, Sherlock." Another box, neatly wrapped as the one before. John now has a sneaking suspicion on where all that paper went. He unwraps the second box to find a third, and then a fourth, each getting progressively smaller than the one before it. On top of the fourth box, there is a note, with just the word 'John' and a comma. John looks up at Sherlock, who is smiling smugly.

The doctor turns back to unwrap it. The fifth also has a note. 'Once you've finished,' it says. He unwraps it, revealing yet ANOTHER note on the sixth, and on the seventh, and the eighth. The parcels are getting much smaller now. John finally finds the final present, paired with the final note, which is much longer than the others. Collectively the notes say: 'John, once you've finished unwrapping these finely wrapped parcels, I would like to take you somewhere. Grab your coat and shoes and we'll be off.'

John lifts his head up to look at Sherlock again, who has gotten on his coat and scarf while John was unwrapping the gifts. They exchange silly grins. Even though John is trying to remain peeved at Sherlock's excessive use of wrapping paper, he can't help but laugh as he gets on his coat. Sherlock helps him put it on like a parent trying to get their child ready for school. John lets him try to help, even though it really isn't helping much. He inquires about their destination as he is slipping on his shoes.

"So where in the world could you possibly be taking me, at this hour on Christmas eve?"

"You'll see." Sherlock grabs John and practically pushes him out the door. He waves down a taxi, whispering a destination to him as quickly as possible so that John doesn't hear. Luckily, the cabby knows exactly where they need to go.

The cab ride is peaceful. John remains silent, not wishing to disturb the quiet atmosphere of the night. It's late in the evening, and snow is gently sprinkling down from the sky, finding its resting place on the ground below. Sherlock is staring absently out the frosty window, past the icy flakes, past the darkness. John's eyes have wandered onto the detective. He wonders where he told the cabby to go, where the cabby is driving them. He figures it's going to be a really good present, because Sherlock isn't one to be under-dramatic.

The cab pulls to a halt, and Sherlock and John step out into the cold. Sherlock instructs him to wait for them to get back.

"Come now, we have to hurry."

"Are you going to tell me where we're off to? Or am I going to have to wait and see?"

"Shush."

The land around them is empty. They've driven a long time, and now it seems that they have exited London completely. There aren't really any structures around. It's a large open field next to an old dirt road that looks as if it hasn't been used in a while. Plants are creeping up through the gravel, small blades of grass and little leaves. Sherlock takes John's arm and leads him off-road and into the field.

"Keep your head down for a minute, and close your eyes. We're almost there." John complies; he squeezes his eyes shut, hangs his head down, and lets the detective lead him through the darkness.

The frost bites at their noses as they walk. The sun has long-since set over London, and the gentle snow hasn't stopped. John feels a couple flakes sneaking down the back of his neck.

"Are we almost there yet? I'm getting cold."

"Shhhhuuussshhh. Just be patient!" The two of them finally come to a full stop in the middle of the field.

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"Yes." John's eyes open and he looks around. He can't see the road from where they are.

"Look at the sky, John."

The doctor is taken aback at what he sees. The stars are intensely beautiful out here. The two of them stand there for a moment, staring up at the stars. Suddenly, John feels a hand slip into his.

"Merry Christmas."

"You too, Sherlock."

"What do you think? Is this a sufficient gift?"

"Yes, it's... It's amazing." John pauses. "Just one question, though."

"Mm?"

"I thought you didn't care about the solar system. You 'deleted' it, right?"

"Oh, piss off. And when I say piss off I mean piss off right back over here and enjoy your present while it lasts. We're going to have to go back to our cabby sooner or later."

The two of them share a laugh and return to the cab. The two of them chat throughout the whole ride home, and John is surprised when he realizes that they're home already. Time flies fast when you're having fun, he surmises.

And even as the two of them exit the cab and walk up to 221B, John doesn't let go of Sherlock's hand.


End file.
